


The Scarlet Letter

by slightly_murderous_sorcerer (emerald_witch_esmeralda)



Category: Hellsing
Genre: And Maxwell/Integra instantly became my OTP, Banter, Drunk Sex, F/M, Hate Sex, I did my best to keep everyone in character, I’m a simple girl with simple tastes, I’ve only watched the anime, Loss of Virginity, One Night Stands, Very brief alluding to pedophilia, enemies with sexual tension is my crack and I am painfully addicted, i have a mighty need to see them have a passionate hatefuck session in a sleazy bar, if I see characters that would slit each other’s throats, im new to this fandom, so I hope i did a good job, so please don’t come for my neck manga fans, sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:22:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27108685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emerald_witch_esmeralda/pseuds/slightly_murderous_sorcerer
Summary: Integra Hellsing is the hardworking, iron-fisted leader of the Hellsing organization...and she’s only human no matter how much she tries to fight against that. When a dear friend suggests that she take a night off, she reluctantly agrees...and finds a bit more than she bargained for.
Relationships: Integra Hellsing/Enrico Maxwell
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	The Scarlet Letter

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t get a chance to finish Hellsing cuz they took it off Netflix (seriously Netflix, wtf) but I did watch enough to get a good idea of the characters’ personalities. As soon as I saw Integra and Maxwell’s interaction:
> 
> They hate each other  
> They’ve tried to kill each other  
> They’d sell each other to Satan for one corn chip  
> They’re both attractive:
> 
> I NEED TO SEE THEM FUCK! And that’s how this fanfic was born. Enemies to Lovers is my shit in any form. The “full of me” line mostly came from Power, this is the perfect place to use it.

“Sir Integra, are you sure you don’t need an escort?” Walter had asked her as she placed the last pin into her blonde hair. She turned on her heel and gave him her typical steely, unreadable look.  


  
“Walter, I’ll be fine. Do you honestly think I’d be so dense as to go out to a public area without any means of defending myself?” Integra opened her purse to reveal a pair of twin pistols before snapping it shut. “Besides, you’re the one pressuring me to go to this ridiculous affair.”  


  
“I think it’ll be fine for you to get out of the house for a bit, and besides...it may be a good chance to give your family some good press.”  
“Yes, like catching me at some trashy dive bar goofing off and away from my post during vampire attacks will be “good press.” An opportunity for the public to find out about Hellsing’s existence and my enemies to further discredit me, more like.”  


  
He says nothing but moves to adjust one of the chiffon roses around her neckline, smiling at their reflections in the mirror.  
“You know, sometimes I’m still taken aback that you’re a fully grown woman. Sometimes I still see that little girl who would demand bedtime stories before I tucked her in.”  
The corners of her lips twitched upward. “Children grow up, old friend. Anyway, I don’t even understand why you think this is such a good idea. We have work to do, I don’t have time to be dallying about when...”  


  
“It’s just for a night. And it’s not some “trashy dive bar” by the way. Even knights need to lay down their swords and armour every now and again and get back to the business of being human.”  
“During _peacetime_ , Walter. During war, if you lay down your sword you die.”  
“I’m sure we can take care of Hellsing for a couple of hours while you’re gone. Get out there, have some fun. Just for tonight...don’t think of it as time off. Think of it as, a chance to gather intel from the streets.”  


  
She raised an eyebrow, looking at him over her shoulder. “I have people for that. People that others will loosen up around more than me.”  
“True, but this _is_ a nightclub. There may even be some members of Iscariot there, or at least their agents.”  
“You think their agents are here?”  
“They could be anywhere, ma’am...foolishly getting drunk. And a drunk man is a talkative man.”  


  
“Loose lips sink ships.”  
“Exactly. You’ll be doing yourself and the organization a favor, the vampire attacks affect the common people of England. So the greatest source of when to make our next move should come from among them. You’ll have a chance to unwind a little, come back with a clear head and be our esteemed leader once again.” 

  
“I still don’t feel comfortable leaving at such a time, why did I let you talk me into this again?”  
“Because you know I’ll hold down the fort until you get back. I’ll also immediately let you know if anything goes wrong and you have to hurry home. Just please, treat yourself to one night out? For me? I would hate to see you collapse from burnout. Every human needs a break, and what use will you be to England and to Hellsing then?” 

  
Integra let out a sigh through her nose, almost inaudible. “Very well, Walter.”  
“Thank you. Shall I send for your driver?”  
“Very well, but use one of the unmarked cars, I want this to be as discreet as possible.“  


  
* * * * * 

  
Blue eyes darting around the swirl of color and bodies, the pulsing music and the smell of alcohol she felt incredibly...out of place here. It’d been a very long time since Integra Hellsing had ever felt out of place, and it wasn’t a feeling she was fond of. Enjoy herself, just relax...what was Walter _thinking_? Oh well, may as not waste the car ride. She walked straight up to the bar, horribly impractical heels clacking on the floor. Why didn’t she wear sensible shoes? This would be the last time she let her butler pick out her outfit. “Bartender? Get me a martini, neat.”  
“Of course ma’am.” As soon as it was in front of her, she downed it in one gulp, relishing the burn. She rested her cheek on her hand, thoughtfully chewing at the olive left in the glass.  
  
“Hey...get me another drink. Something stronger this time.”  


  
**** 

  
Integra was quite unaware of how much time had passed since she sat down at the bar. She’d had a couple drinks, had to scare off a couple of perverts that stepped to her, this was almost like a day at the office. Almost, with more music and more drunk people and less vampire activity. Reaching up with a groan to adjust her glasses, she saw a flash of...silver? Something silvery glinted in the corner of her eye, and as she craned her neck to look she almost dropped the glass in her hand. It...it couldn’t be. Could it?  
She slid off the barstool and shuffled amongst the dancing crowd, furtively making her way toward a table in the far back, and that table’s lone occupant. Her suspicions confirmed, Integra allowed herself a small smile. “Well, this night off just got a lot more fun.” 

  
“Well, well, well.” Integra noted in the distant back of her mind that her words were slightly slurred. That settled it, no more alcohol. Who knew that thimbleful of booze would have such an effect. “If it isn’t Bishop Enrico Maxwell.” Sharp violet eyes turned from the empty cups that littered his side of the table to look unfocused in her general direction, widened and then narrowed.  


  
“Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing.” He spat. “I would’ve expected a Protestant whore like yourself to be at such a place.”  
“Well I _wouldn’t_ expect a “good Catholic bishop” to be at a dump like this. The head of Iscariot, no less. What are you doing in England? Stalking me?”  
“I was by my lonesome when you walked up to my table, so if there’s any stalking going on then it’s definitely coming from the opposite direction. What brings you here? Looking for your next conquest?”  
“No, the reason I’m here is my own business. I know _you_ won’t tell me the reason _you’re_ here, unless the pope ordered you to get absolutely plastered in the heart of enemy territory.”  
Maxwell laughed into his cups. “Perhaps. Or perhaps our intelligence got wind that you’d be here and I was sent here to finally rid the world of your heretic influence.”  


  
“Of all places, in the middle of a bar?” Integra arched an eyebrow. “I doubt it...the pope may be a pompous and maniacal windbag but he isn’t stupid, there are far better places to arrange an assassination. And if that were the case, I _highly_ doubt he’d approve of the man he sent to kill me getting fucked up out of his mind. Unless the Vatican is getting sloppy.”  
“Don’t you _dare_ insult His Holiness, you...”  
“Sow? Whore? Come on, do they not have any original insults left in Italy?”  


  
“Hellsing, I am in a very bad mood...”  
“When are you ever in a GOOD mood?”  
Integra shot back, sliding into the empty chair across from Maxwell’s table. “The year nineteen-hundred and never?! Or is it when you’re killing innocent people? You get off on that sick shit, don’t you?” He stood up and she leaned in close, undeterred until they were staring _into_ each other. “If you even think of trying anything, bishop...just know I’m armed.” she hissed.  


  
“I would expect nothing less from the “great” Integra Hellsing. However, I am not a defenseless duck myself.” Seconds, minutes, maybe even hours passed before they reached a silent stalemate, returning warily to their seats. Integra ordered another drink from a passing waitress and waited until she was out of earshot before speaking.  
“They need to take out that celibacy clause, seriously. There is too much unchecked horny running around that church...no wonder you have so many sex abuse scandals going on.”  
Maxwell stiffened in his seat, tightening his grip on the bottle of wine in his hand. Before he could react, the main entrance swung open. “Shit...it’s Anderson!”  
Integra looked over to indeed see a familiar head of short-cut blond hair and white coat. “What is _he_ doing here?!”  


  
“Looking for me, most likely...I’m not supposed to be here.”  
“Ooh, breaking the rules are we?”  
“Shut up.” He stood up so quickly that he nearly fell flat on his ass, head spinning from drink. Integra snorted out a laugh, she wasn’t much better off but it was still funny. “We need to get out of here, _now_.”  


  
“ _I_ don’t have to do anything!”  
“You do if you wish to live! You don’t have your precious pet vampire to save you this time.”  
“I don’t need Alucard to protect me from him...”  
“Look, if he sees the both of us together then it’ll be a bloodbath! Do you want that?!” Maxwell snapped, he and Integra shared a short glaring match that was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps. “Fine, let’s go. But this doesn’t mean I trust you.”  
“I trust a rabid dog more than I trust you, but here we are.” They got up from the table and looked about for an exit, spotting a nearby door. “This way!”  
Integra snatched off her heels once she tripped over them way too many times. She disliked them as it was, but it was worse when you were drunk and stuck following your worst enemy around. “Dammit Walter!”  


  
* * * * * 

  
“Alright, I think we lost him.” Maxwell turned the lock and stopped at the sink to splash water on his face, while Integra stood in the corner. “So what now, Bishop? We just hide out in here until that _thing_ goes away? Was that your brilliant plan?!”  
“Well, do you have a better idea?!” Her chest heaving, Maxwell allowed his eyes to drop from Integra’s face to examine the rest of her...not bad, not bad at all...for an enemy. “Where is the rest of your dress? Do Protestants _dress_ like whores too?”  
“What are you, my mother? And it’s a decent length, you prick.”  


  
His eyes didn’t leave her, even as she was giving him her coldest glare. “What are you staring at, you slimy Iscariot snak...” Integra followed Maxwell’s gaze, unashamedly skimming the lines beneath the shimmering red fabric of her gown. Her expression immediately warring between amusement and disgust, eventually reaching some twisted concord. “So, you really are a man underneath that Catholic frippery after all.”  
“And you seem to be really a woman underneath those unflattering suits.”  
She allowed herself a half-smirk, a ghost a laugh escaping her. The man of God wasn’t so godly after all, it seemed. “What of your vows, Bishop?”  


  
“I’m not a bishop anymore. At least, not for now.”  
“What?”  
“They stripped me of my rank, said there’s an “investigation.” Maxwell pinched the bridge of his nose, jaw tightening. “Those ungrateful shits...accused me of treason! Me, the head of Iscariot! After all the blood I spilled for them and for God, how dare they even accuse me of such a thing! And now my rank and privileges have been suspended until I’m cleared.”  


  
Integra was quiet, but the corners of her mouth started to twitch up at periodic intervals.  
“Don’t you _dare_...” A wild cackle and all of a sudden she was doubled over, hands on her stomach, barking out a laugh. “Oh, that’s rich! How the mighty have fallen!” She walked over to a nearby mirror, taking a moment to collect herself...she normally didn’t do things like this, but this? This was beautiful, too beautiful to not celebrate at least a little. “What? Caught stealing money from the collection plate?”  


  
“No. They say I was caught with my hand in a different kind of cookie jar, if you will.” One of his ungloved hands made its way to the bare part of her upper thigh, making the distance between them grow very short very quickly.  
No shouting, no screaming. Just a calm: “You have five seconds to remove your hand before I shoot it off.”  
“You’re welcome to, if you really wish.”  
“The hell do you mean, “if I really wish?!”  
“We both know you could’ve stopped me any time, Sir Integra. But you have not. Not made one move to disengage yourself.” That new look in his eye, that hungry look...it wasn’t unlike the way Alucard would look at her. She shuddered, in a not entirely unpleasant way. Maxwell would think it was pure disgust for all intents and purposes.  


  
He decided to test the waters, giving the flesh under his hand a light squeeze. She grabbed his wrist and gritted out: “the hell are you playing at, Maxwell?” but nothing else.  
“Well, I despise you. I despise you, and you despise me.” He leaned close until they were mere inches apart, Integra was screaming inside of her head. But not at him, at herself. What the hell was going on?! Why wasn’t she trying to stop him?! How much did she have to drink for him not to be a bloody smear on the tiles?  
“Yes, we’ve established that. What does that have to do with...whatever this is?”  
“Despite your heretical ways, you’ve...intrigued me as it were. Fierce in battle, skilled in leadership. And, you’re not an unattractive woman. Since I’ve been stripped of my rank, I no longer have to abide by my vows. That includes celibacy, and it’s been _so long._ ”  
“If you want to scratch your itch, may I suggest one of the drunk girls that throw themselves at any man at these parties? They may be desperate enough...or better yet, your left hand.”  


  
“You don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve eyed my back when we have these little show meetings? The way you look at me?” The sharp smell of vodka on his breath had her wrinkling her nose.  
“What, in disgust? Like I want to put a bullet between your eyes?” Maxwell’s hand was getting a little grabby now, but again she made no move to stop him. In fact, she was actually...leaning into his touch? Okay, it’s official. She was drunker than drunk, had to be. _With any luck, I won’t remember any of this._  


  
“My dear Integra, how long has it been since you’ve had a man? A real man to pleasure you.”  
“One, that isn’t your business. Two, I don’t have time for such tripe...I’m too busy protecting England from psychopaths like you.”  
“Don’t you ever get tired?” he purred. “Of being the boss of everything, don’t you ever just want to let go and let someone take care of you?” He got no answer but pursed lips...pursed lips he leaned in to kiss.  


  
But damn, the man was _good_. At kissing, anyway. Integra felt heat pooling in her belly... _oh_ no, this was _not_ happening. Not good...with a grunt, she shoved him away. Her hand was on his chest as stared daggers into his eyes, praying that the confusion she felt didn’t show on her face. If you got past the psychopathy and the religious derangement syndrome , Enrico Maxwell was a handsome, if dangerous man. Her enemy, who wanted her. And that want wasn’t one sided, much to her dismay. She _wanted_ him and she _hated_ it and what if anybody found out?! None of this shit made any sense, why was this happening?! This Catholic loon shouldn’t be making her body stir like this, but he _was_.  
_If you want this to end, you can end it. Any time you wish...but you don’t want to end it, do you? You want to do something dangerous, something for yourself for once._ Maxwell merely looked at her hand and grinned at her, the grin of a predator. And he was going to eat her alive, if she allowed it. No, she was stronger than that...she’d play along with his game, only for as far as it benefited her. She’d learned how to play in the ocean without drowning, and when he removed his hand and leaned in to kiss her again, she was ready for him. She’d dance in this dangerous, beautiful storm and she’d make her way back to shore safely in the end.  
She always did.  


  
* * * * * 

  
Either the man had broken his priestly vows or he’d had plenty of practice before he decided to become bishop. Knowing Enrico Maxwell, probably both. Either way, those lips and those fingers definitely did not belong to some chaste, inexperienced monk. He was kissing her neck, her collarbone, brushing the tops of her breasts, sometimes biting down hard enough to leave a mark. She responded by raking her nails down his back, marking that “untouched” skin hard enough to draw blood...or at least to leave ugly red welts if not. To leave a similar sign that she had been there. Quite an undignified and rather unholy sound escaped him. She reached up to undo the tie holding his hair back and grinned against his shoulder when he quietly moaned. “So, your hair is a weak spot? Rookie move priest, giving your enemy an opening.” She wound the silvery waves around her hand and pulled, wincing when he bit down on her skin to muffle his cries. “Well, would you look at that?  
“When this is over, I may have you taking the sacrament and becoming Catholic.” Those fingers. Those clever, wicked fingers that had shot bullets at her men were now toying with her most intimate parts. Making her wet. “No chance in hell, I don’t care how well you fuck.”  


  
“You say that now, but we haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet. Before I donned the cloth, I’ve had quite a few women.”  
Maxwell slipped two fingers inside her, his smirk turning into an expression of surprise when he saw her slight grimace. He pulled his hand away, fingers slick and shiny with blood. “A virgin.” he whispered. “You‘re a virgin...I must say I’m surprised. I never expected to find chastity among the ranks of you creatures.”  
“So, are you just going to whisper creepily at your hand or...? She was cut off when he popped those fingers, stained with her blood and juices into his mouth and licked them clean, eyes never leaving her face. Her stomach and her cunt clenched tightly, her jaw following suit.  


  
“Hm, a bit too sweet. Don’t worry, Sir Integra. I’ll be gentle...mostly.”  


  
“I don’t want gentleness. Especially not from you.” His voice was ragged, skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat...he was hard, she could see him straining through his britches.  
“Good, because that was just a courtesy offer.” She hurriedly bit down on her lip to cut off the rest of her cry when he ripped down his trousers and abruptly sheathed himself all the way in.  
“How does it feel? That your greatest enemy is the first to have you like this?” He didn’t give her much time to adjust, not that she would’ve expected him to...luckily, she had been prepared enough that it wasn’t horribly painful and the pain that lingered only heightened her pleasure. Surprisingly thoughtful of Maxwell, she didn’t even think he’d have that level of consideration.  


  
The only response he got, aside from a strangled moan was a stinging slap across the face and a violent tug to his hair...the mix of pain and pleasure didn’t humble her like he had hoped.  
_”Fuck!”_ He leaned into her to keep his knees from buckling. “This hair kink of yours is _so_ delightfully fun.” She chuckled, he stiffened. “You’ll pay for that.” He wound his hand in her hair, sinking his teeth into the soft skin of her throat and relishing the gasp that came after. “You’re always so damned _full_ of yourself.” He panted against her neck. “You’re so much more agreeable when you’re full of me.”  


  
To say he was caught off guard by the legs suddenly hooking around his waist and drawing him closer would’ve been an understatement. “You talk too much.” She grabbed his hair and used it to pull him down to her, biting his bottom lip just enough to get him to open his mouth. He left an opening and she was on him, forcing him to share her air and twining her tongue with his.  
She stubbornly refused to make any noises other than little gasps unless he wrenched them out of her, which made them all the sweeter to the priest’s ears. She could look as removed from the whole thing as she liked, her hips were moving into his of their own accord and she leaned into his touch when she thought he wasn’t paying attention...you couldn’t fake that. But it was still cute, nevertheless. Futile, but cute that she tried to fool everyone, even herself. Even now, even as one particularly sharp thrust wrung a loud moan from her.  


  
“A shame, really.” she panted. “That such a cock is attached to such a cunt.”  
Maxwell growled lowly in this throat, that crazed look coming into his eyes again. She tensed up, preparing for an attack...but instead was answered with another thrust.  
“Surrender to me.”  
“Surrender to your mother, papist...ah!”  


  
* * * * * 

  
Pulling himself up on shaky arms with a last groan, he moved from where he had collapsed on top of her and pulled out. Integra lay on the counter, eyes closed, trying to catch her breath...scarlet lips, scarlet dress...scarlet staining her thighs and skin. She looked beautiful like this. Beautifully and utterly ruined, Maxwell’s breath hitched. “What are you staring at now?” she whispered.  
“Admiring my handiwork.”  
With a snort she pushed up on her hands into a sitting position, the hissing sigh as she shifted her legs not going unnoticed by him. “Fucking damn it.”  
“Sore?” His voice was syrupy sweet, and it made Integra feel ill.  
“No.” she said flatly.  
“Are you sure?” He gently reached down and stroked his fingers through her folds, eliciting a louder hiss and she violently slapped his hand away when he pushed inside.  
“You _are_ sore.” Maxwell clucked his tongue. “ _Il mio povero uccellino_...not to worry, cara.” He grabbed her hips and pulled her toward the edge of the counter, stroking the inside of her thigh. “Father will make it all better.”  
“What are you playing at, Enrico...ohhh!”  
Something warm and wet slid across her clit, and she didn’t even have to look down to know what it was. “I thought this thing was a _siiiiin_ to you Ca...catholics!”  
He stopped what he was doing, peering up at her from where he knelt between her thighs. “I’ve committed so many sins tonight, what’s one more?” before resuming his task. Integra allowed her eyes to flutter shut before tossing her head back.  
_Fuck, his **mouth**...damnit all to hell! At least he’s quiet now._ “Cry out for me, lovely.”  
“Make me.” That fire in her eyes, that stubborn refusal to surrender...there she is.  
“Oh, trust me. I absolutely plan to.”  


  
* * * * * 

  
Alright...so it wasn’t a horrible night after all. Walter had been right. Integra sighed, fishing around for a cigar as the cool night air hit her skin. She’d already called Walter to come pick her up, if he asked her about the bruises...well they totally came from a surprise attack or kicking the shit out of some drunk, perverted creep and certainly not because she’d had admittedly great sex with her greatest enemy in a public bathroom. He didn’t need to know that little detail.  


  
When she got home, Walter was waiting there with aspirin and a cigar. “See Walter, this is why I keep you around.” Integra swallowed the pills and glass of water, breathing out sharply through her nose. “You’re a Godsend.”  
“You flatter me, ma’am. Did you have fun tonight?”  
Integra smiled at him, nodding. “I did. I actually did, thank you Walter. You know, I should talk you into making me take a day off more often.”  
Walter returned her smile...until he didn’t. His eyes went wide as they raked over his master’s body, he was at her side in a flash. “What are...why is your skin all marked up?! Who’s done this to you, a surprise attack?!”  
“No Walter, nothing like that. I’d be a whole lot more injured if that were the case, don’t you think? Just some bar creeps that needed sorting out, not to worry.”  
“I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”  
“Let me? That’s cute...but the guy who tried it is in worse shape than I am, I assure you.”  
“Good. I expected nothing less from my goddaughter.”  
“Be a dear and get the maids to draw me a bath, won’t you? I’m sore and I’m freezing. And I have a hangover.”  
“Of course.” 

  
As Walter made his way down the hall, Integra collapsed in her office chair and pulled out the annoying hairpins, or rather the three that were left in there, letting it fall freely the way she preferred. She closed her eyes and reached for the cigar...she’d never been so glad to be home. “Damn, should’ve asked Walter to light it before he left.”  
“Master Integra.” She didn’t even have to turn her head to know who was currently standing in her doorway. “Alucard...I trust this is something important?”  
“Your blood. There’s something _wrong_.” That last word came out as a growl.  
“What, do you smell the gin and vermouth?” she asked, amusement leaking into her voice.  
“It doesn’t smell as sweet anymore.” Alucard’s frown deepened, twisting into some hybrid of a grimace and a snarl. Her hand tightened on the unlit cigar...if he could gauge all that just from smelling her blood, what else could he pick up?  
“I just need a bath, nothing more. Speaking of, I should probably go see how Walter’s doing with that.” With a grunt, she got up from her chair and brushed past him, going to search for her butler.  
_”Who was he?”_ Was that a _demand?!_ She stopped in her tracks, not bothering to turn around. “That is not your business, soldier.” The words were normal enough, but the tone was pure frost. Alucard inhaled deeply, she swore she could _hear_ his jaw clench like a vice.  
_“Him?!”_  
She pretended not to notice the way his voice raised like a threat, instead continuing on her way. “Goodnight, Alucard. Get some sleep.”  


  
* * * * * 

  
“There ye are, Enrico!” Anderson nearly bolted from the back seat of the taxi as Maxwell climbed in on the unoccupied side. “I’ve been lookin’ everywhere, where have you been?! You look like absolute dog...”  
“I’ve been out trying to trace the steps of our old enemy, we are in their territory after all. I’m a grown man Alexander, I don’t need you watching me anymore.”  
“Hm, gathering intel, is that it?” Anderson took one sniff and frowned. “Drownin’ yer sorrows in vodka, more like.”  
“Can we _just_ fucking _**go**_?!”  


  
“Ye’ve been strangely silent this whole ride...was yer little night on the town that bad?”  
Maxwell was curled up on his side, cheek pressed against the cool glass of the window. “No, _amico._ Not at all.” He seemed utterly enraptured by the object he was currently turning over in his fingers...a tiny, red chiffon rose. “In fact, I think it went quite well.”  



End file.
